


He’s Thirteen (and Life is Rainbows)

by Brosedshield



Series: MCU Character Studies [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: AIM - Freeform, Character Study, F/M, POV Female Character, Retrospective, Tony Stark is a bad life choice, mad science for mad scientists is also not that great for children and long-life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 16:58:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3297713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brosedshield/pseuds/Brosedshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maya Hansen almost named her son Anthony. In the end, good sense and caution won out. </p>
<p>(an AU where Maya Hansen DID have a thirteen year old kid in her car. How the hell did this become her life?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	He’s Thirteen (and Life is Rainbows)

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this is an AU character study that takes place completely within Iron Man 3. Lots of spoilers, and plenty of things may be weird if you haven't seen the film. No beta, I am so sorry :)

Maya Hansen almost named her son Anthony. In the end, good sense and caution (both of which had been startlingly absent that particular New Year’s Eve in Bern) had triumphed over pride. She could probably blame most of that night on the Y2K hysteria and the pleasure of being young, alive and being called brilliant by one of the geniuses of their generation, but nine months later was a completely different story.

To start, Tony Stark was one of the last people that she’d want to name a child after. A charmer with a twelve hour attention span, someone who could talk intelligently praising her work one moment and leave her in a cold bed with a half-finished equation the next, was _not_ the role model she wanted for her child, no matter his biology.

She couldn’t honestly swear to the biology, either. Stark was hardly the only man she’d slept with in the required timeframe, and though she’d used protection with the other candidates, she’d _thought_ she’d used protection with Stark too, no matter how much champagne had been in her glass. She couldn’t be sure, then, and she sure as hell wasn’t crawling to Stark Industries asking for a paternity test.

But to finish was working for AIM. Aldrich Killian had something of a bee up his ass about Stark (which Maya could understand, having a hard time standing the thought of the man herself) and that was dangerous. Even at the very beginning, when everything with Killian had been rainbows, Maya had recognized them as a sickly sort of neon rainbows that indicated a high level of contaminants in the atmosphere. Bringing up the hated front man of Stark Industries (though everyone in the business knew that Stane ran the show outside of R&D) was not something that she wanted to risk.

She had considered Howard as a name for her son, both for the humor and the history, but she’d never been a fan of alliteration. She settled on David. By the time she’d started serious work for AIM he was a bouncing, bright-eyed boy with hair and eyes as dark as hers (and if that meant they also matched a certain billionaire, genius, womanizer, well, Dr. Maya Hansen didn’t have to publicize the fact).

She was grateful for that, years later when Extremis moved on to the human test phase (dodging government restrictions on genetic engineering mainly by never admitting the full scope of their experiments and drawing their test subjects from those desperate enough not to know what they had to lose). Killian had been in physical therapy for years at that point, laboriously straightening his spine and training away his limp, coming into the lab after therapy sessions sweating and in pain, doggedly refusing pain medication and always pushing her to explore new horizons in her research when a different man (more cautious, or maybe the word she was looking for was “moral”) would have left her experiments develop at a slower, saner pace. Then again, at a slower, saner pace they probably never would have successfully developed Extremis.

Killian wasn’t the first human test subject for Extremis, but he was by far the most successful and the template for those to come after: focused, damaged, and just a bit crazy.

They offered the treatment to a specific groups, favoring veterans who had come back a little broken. Long before their first non-laboratory overdose-combustion at Rose Hill, Tennessee, they’d had problems with control. Dosage had to be _precise_ and carefully monitored, both by the subject and the chief researcher. Subjects always showed some level of instability, but whether from the pain, the treatment itself, or the knowledge that they were now borderline invulnerable, she couldn’t say.

She’d been sleeping with Killian (new, improved by therapy, still a damaged body carrying a brilliant mind) before he ever took Extremis. It was flattering to be noticed and to be _seen_ , not for her face or chest or anything that she carried under her clothes, but for her mind and her work. And Killian was brilliant. Focused, charming, needy in odd ways at odd times, and a genius in a handful of disciplines. Maybe, somewhere, she’d wanted a father-figure for David, but really she should have known better before Killian ever got close enough to slip a hand beneath her shirt.

Killian was never a father, though he talked about his own enough, full of vague phrases that meant either nothing or everything, shy on details like when and a where and how exactly he’d gotten the limp that he’d worked so hard to eliminate. He was cheerful and casual in his affection, generous with gifts and the time and social support she needed to raise a son and still do the work that she was called to, but he was never invested in David a fraction of the attention that he would put into his latest gadget or ploy with the Master.

In some ways, Killian’s right hand muscle, Simon, did better. He had been part of the second round of trails (what Maya personally thought of as the first successful round) and had been interested in the program for its enhancements and not what physical damage it could reverse. He wasn’t nearly her level as far as math or theory behind the treatment, but he had a solid grasp of mechanics, piloting, weaponry, and how to regulate dosage (and ensure that others did as well). When he wasn’t on missions for Killian or the Master, Simon would answer David’s questions, spend time with him, teach him hand-to-hand without leaving anything Maya could identify as unnecessary bruises. David liked him, and was wary of him, and had picked up more than one smart-ass turn-of-phrase that she had first heard in Simon’s mouth.

A man your lover affectionately refers to as a maniac, a psycho or berserker should not be the best available male role model for a child. But by the time Maya realized that David knew more about how to take an enemy out in three moves than about interacting with his peers, she was in too deep to get out. No. She was in too deep to want an exit.

When the Master sent troops to kill Stark (or Killian did, as it was hard to separate their actions sometimes), she went because she needed the rest of the formula and she knew that no matter what risks she took in the lab she didn’t have the sheer brainpower to make that final connection. She took David with her and left him in the car outside Stark Mansion. Whether she thought he could make good leverage on Stark or because she was privately afraid to leave her teenager (just turned thirteen in October, jeesh) in an AIM facility when Killian was crazy and Simon was on assignment, she didn’t think about it that closely.

The Stark Mansion was futuristic, with sleek lines and lots of glass. Stark greeted her in the suit, which she had to admit was smart. He wouldn’t come with her.

When he made a smart line about a twelve-year-old boy in the backseat of her car, she corrected him on the age and got the pleasure of seeing him wince (followed by a slow-burn anger at the shock there).

For a second, in the discussion, Maya though that between them, she and Pepper Potts might actually get Stark to leave before the Master arrived. And then she saw the missiles on the live news feed.

The suit was a technological marvel and she couldn’t help but wonder, as Potts half flew, half dragged her out of the house what someone also enhanced with Extremis would be able to do with something like that. Then she had to watch while Tony Stark, billionaire, genius, possible father of her child and the last hope she had of finding the key to stabilizing Extremis within her lifetime, was buried in the sea with the shattered remains of his home and the more ugly and gigantic stuffed rabbit she had ever seen.

After the first responders were handled and Potts had stood for a long moment with an Iron Man helmet over her head, Maya Hansen offered her a ride.

“Yes,” Potts said, all business and efficiency even with tear tracks on her face and debris from a firefight staining her clothes. “I have questions for you too.”

She strode back to the car beside Maya, and then froze. David was standing next to the door, mouth a tight line, barely hidden relief in his eyes beneath floppy dark hair.

Potts looked carefully between David and Maya and then took a careful breath. “And this is?”

This might not have been the best idea. “Ms. Potts, my son David. David, this is Ms. Pepper Potts.”

“Just Pepper is fine,” Potts said, extending her hand. “Nice to meet you, David.”

She didn’t ask the question burning in her eyes, and Maya was grateful. She would bring Potts with her as leverage, just in case Stark resurrected himself again. Killian had already been called. This would turn out okay.

“Nice to meet you too, ma’am.” David nodded politely and let go of her hand as soon as possible. Even though her body temperature would have been lower than that of anyone with Extremis, he had learned not to apply too much pressure for too long to bare skin. He had a couple shallow scars from times a handshake, a blow, or too close of proximity had left their mark.

Watching her son and the woman who may or may not be sleeping with the man who may or may not have been his biological father, Maya Hansen wondered how the hell this became her life.


End file.
